


Peekaboo

by tobinlaughing



Category: Firefly, Joss Whedon - Fandom, Serenity, Whedonverse - Fandom
Genre: Embarrassment, F/M, Kaylee - Freeform, Mal - Freeform, Mal is a bad man, Sex Dreams, Tattoo, psychic sounds like something from science fiction, river - Freeform, river is reading minds again, special level of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobinlaughing/pseuds/tobinlaughing





	Peekaboo

It take Mal a second to realize what he's seeing, and then he wonders why he's never seen it before--but before he can ask, she's tugged her shirt back down and gone on to the next part of whatever it is she's working on, and then he realizes he's been holding this thing that's getting heavy and should put it down, and then the image is out of his head. It doesn't seem important to ask at the moment.

The next time he doesn't have time to wonder, but he does--there are bombs going off practically overhead, it feels like, and he's firing into the fray and maybe hitting nothing, or whatever he's hitting isn't falling down, fuck it--and suddenly, through the torn fabric over her her ribcage, he sees it again. When he stops to stare, he is aware of the line from her shoulder down the curve of her back, the way he can see the muscles move in her side and over her ribs, and the glyph that's inked over her skin is undulating as she reaches over to grab Simon and pull him under the cover of their makeshift shelter. 

_Boy, Kaylee has nice arms,_ he thinks, just as another bomb explodes and it's actually overhead this time, and he's got shrapnel burning through his scalp and his hair is on fire.

And now he can't get it out of his head, everytime he sees her--which is pretty much any time on this ship, small as it is--he can see the graceful arc of her torso with that as-yet undefined image tattooed over her lowest right rib. He can picture it: content to sleep in the dark under her teddy-bear t-shirts and coveralls; winking at him as she stretches her arms overhead while she coaxes yet another thousand miles out of the engine; he can imagine it when she's cleaning up, swiped carelessly with a damp rag that passes for a bath out in the black. He wants to see it writhe over her ribs, slicked with sweat, the taut skin shuddering as her whole body quakes and--

River is sitting in the pilot's seat again, practicing gentle maneuvers as she spells him on the overnight run to Persephone. She doesn't even look over at him when he snorts awake, jerking in the console seat. 

"It's a bird," she says casually, as though they'd been having a completely normal and carried-through conversation, and her tone is so non-panicked or creepifying that Mal actually stares wildly around at the windows, trying to figure out where she's seen a bird this deep out in space. 

"Wha--?" he starts, for a minute not sure why River's flying the ship and not Wash...but then the 'verse catches up with him and he remembers. "What's a bird?"

"The answer to your question," River glares at him like she glares at Simon and he's tickled at her regard. "A bird, with steel feathers that eats rust mites and sings in the black. A nightingale. Hardly desirable; so drab, when there are other red-breasted pecker-pullers out there."

Ah. So maybe not creepifying, but certainly not what could be called a normal conversation. He mulls over telling the Doctor about _red-breasted pecker-puller_...could be good for a laugh sometime. "What's our position, lil' albatross?" He yawns, stretches, and tries to salvage the exchange.

"Landfall in four hours, thirty-six minutes, Captain," she answers promptly. "Eavesdown docking platform 39-E confirmed with the port authority, ship registered as the _Holy Calm_ under the control of Captain Horbatkin." 

"Thank you, River. Why don't you go get some sleep and I'll get us down."

River leaps up from the seat, sketches a snappy salute , and runs out to the rest of the ship. She's barefoot. Mal smiles, then remembers his dream and coughs sheepishly. He squirms in his seat, trying to get himself under control. There's no one else on the bridge, but he's embarrassed--

"Mornin, Cap," Kaylee yawns at him, and Mal jumps almost out of his skin. She flops down in River's vacated seat and tries to wrap herself around the cup of hot tea she's brought in, and Mal is trying to look everywhere else and failing miserably. _Breath and breasts heaving, bronzed curls spread out over a pillow..._

"Kaylee! Mornin'! Is it? I thought--why yes, it is officially morning, at least by Persephone-time," he blusters. "Why're you up so early?"

"Wanna talk to you, Cap," she says, leveling him with a sleepy-yet-serious stare. "Got an idea. Y'know how I'm always workin' on _Serenity_ and keepin' her trim, and you're always tryin' to get us blowed up?"

"I--what?" Clearly Kaylee has been taking conversation tips from both River and Inara. He's still flushing hot from top to toe. "I don't try to get my ship blowed up, Kaylee. My ship don't crash, not'n less you crashed her. Whaddaya mean, get us blowed up?"

"Oh, Cap, you know what I mean. Blown catalyzer on the compression coil. Loose buffer panels. Crazy Ivans and Reavers an' all that, and ignorin' my perfectly reasonable requests for new parts. "

She's wearing a strappy little top, no brassiere, and he's got three distinct desires clamoring in his head: _get her naked--what the hell do she have on her back?--how the hell do I get out of this conversation?_ \--and so he forstalls her by holding up a hand. 

"Kaylee," he interrupts her, and opens door number two, "Tell me, what's tattooed on your back?"

"


End file.
